Drunkenness
by Khashana
Summary: John loves getting drunk. Slash. Johnlock, SHJW, Sherlock/John.


Warnings: Slash. Don't like don't read. Drunk sex.

Disclaimer: Sherlock needs to get back on the air, but I have no power to make it do so, or anything else.

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John loved getting drunk.

Despite the loss of control, despite the highly unpleasant wakening, he loved getting drunk with Sherlock.

He remembered clearly the first time it happened.

It was a particularly difficult case.

"Come on, Sherlock, let's go to bed."

"How can I possibly sleep?" the other man had answered. "I'm still marveling at the intricacies of it all. Ooh, she was clever. Cleverer than most. I'm far too wound up to sleep."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Exhausted. My feet are killing me, and my mind keeps wandering off in odd directions, but I couldn't sleep."

"Care for a drink, then?"

"A drink?"

"Celebrate the case and put yourself to sleep all at once. I'm just as tired, but I still can't sleep through you playing the violin."

"All right."

And so they went into the next bar they found. Sherlock enthused over the case while John watched him. He loved the way those eyes would light up in delight. He loved the way those lips would smile even as they spoke of killings. He was tired enough to prefer ordering another drink, and another, over taking the effort to stand, pay, and leave. Instead, he drank too much and watched Sherlock's lips move until he couldn't hear the words anymore and he just wished Sherlock was using his lips for something else.

It was a thought he only entertained occasionally, knowing as he did that Sherlock wasn't interested.

But he was gay.

That was the irritating thing that kept him just out of reach. If he'd been straight, John would never consider it, but knowing that Sherlock was gay, and attractive, and brilliant, but too caught up in his work to want more from John, was exasperating.

And, drunk as he was, John could admit that Sherlock, this exasperating person whom he couldn't have, was the man he loved.

And, being so drunk, John decided to shut Sherlock up and kissed him full on the mouth.

He might have remembered what a bad idea it was, might have pulled away and started stammering apologies, if Sherlock hadn't immediately been kissing him back, as though he had been ready and waiting for John to do what he had done.

Their hands found each others' arms, back, hair, and John was mildly surprised that Sherlock could stand, pay, and make his way out the door still snogging him senseless. He continued to impress by flagging down a cab and giving the correct address almost without removing his lips from John's, and then maneuvering them both inside the house and into his bedroom. By now their lips were somewhat bruised, and John turned happily to stripping their clothes off instead. It wasn't until Sherlock was crouched over him on the bed, both of them naked and rock hard, that Sherlock spoke, and it was quite possibly the first time John had ever heard him sound truly hesitant about anything.

"John…I haven't got any supplies…"

"Then we won't do that," he whispered back, and reached out and grasped Sherlock's hardness.

They touched each other until they came, and then they fell asleep.

John woke the next morning and Sherlock was already awake. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, and was disappointed, but not entirely surprised, to find that Sherlock gave no inclination that he even remembered what had happened last night, and figured it was a one-night stand.

Until the next difficult case, and they were walking along, and drew near a bar.

"Care for a drink?" asked Sherlock, and John really looked at him, and yes, there was something there.

"All right," he answered.

They had to get a little drunker for their second time, but finally John again made the first move, and again they maneuvered back to the flat, still snogging, and John was feeling plenty of déjà vu, until that moment when they were on the bed, naked and hard, and before John could reach for Sherlock, Sherlock leaned over and rummaged in the beside drawer. John grinned. Oh, he loved getting drunk.

_Fin._

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A/N: No, I am not writing more! This story is meant to be a somewhat-in-denial, pre-relationship fic. If you want true relationship fic, try the community 221B Baker Street.


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